“In the intervals I have chopped industriously. I have seen a great many people who came to call upon me on political business. I have had to handle my correspondence of course, and I have had not a few wearing matters of national policy, ranging from the difficulties in Turkey to the scandals in the Post Office. But I have had three months of rest, of holiday, by comparison with what has gone before. Next Monday I go back to Washington, and for the thirteen months following, there will be mighty little let-up to the strain. But I enjoy it to the full. “What the outcome will be as far as I am personally concerned, I do not know. It looks as if I would be renominated; whether I shall be re-elected I haven’t the slightest idea. I know there is bitter opposition to me from many sources. Whether I shall have enough support to overcome this opposition, I cannot tell. I suppose few Presidents can form the slightest idea whether their policies have met with approval or not. Certainly _I_ cannot. But as far as I can see, these policies have been right, and I hope that time will justify them. If it doesn’t why I must abide the fall of the dice, and that is all there is to it. Ever yours, T. R.” That letter is very characteristic of his usual attitude. Strain, yes; hard work, yes; but equally “I enjoy it to the full”! Equally also was he willing to abide by the “fall of the dice,” having done what he fully believed to have been the right thing for the country. That December, the day after Christmas, he writes again: “Darling Sister: I so enjoyed seeing you here, but I have been so worried about you. I am now looking forward to Stewart’s coming, and to seeing Helen and Ted. But I do wish you would take a rest. “We had a delightful Christmas yesterday, just such a Christmas as thirty or forty years ago we used to have under Father’s and Mother’s supervision in 28 East 20th Street. At seven all the children came in to open the big, bulging stockings in our bed; Kermit’s terrier, Allan, a most friendly little dog, adding to the children’s delight by occupying the middle of the bed. From Alice to Quentin, each child was absorbed in his or her stocking, and Edith certainly managed to get the most wonderful stocking toys.... Then after breakfast we all went into the library, where the bigger toys were on separate tables for the children. I wonder whether there ever can come in life a thrill of greater exaltation and rapture than that which comes to one, say between the ages of six and fourteen, when the library doors are thrown open and one walks in to see all the gifts, like a materialized fairyland, arrayed on one’s own special table.